


Wire Hangers

by Sincerely_Sierra



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: Child Abuse, Child Sexual Abuse, F/F, Flashbacks, Mentions of Rape, Mommie Dearest, PTSD, Physical Abuse, Trauma, Triggers, mentions of molestation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:21:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27430420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sincerely_Sierra/pseuds/Sincerely_Sierra
Summary: Mallory gets upset while watching a certain cult classic, and she is forced to reveal her past when it causes her to break down.
Relationships: Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt/Mallory, Zoe Benson/Madison Montgomery
Comments: 3
Kudos: 39





	Wire Hangers

**Author's Note:**

> I’m back from my hiatus, and I’ve returned with this absolute monstrosity of a story. It involves mentions of child physical and sexual abuse with brief depictions of such. It also mentions a minor being raped. If you are sensitive to these topics, please step back. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I feel so gross after writing this and I want to break my fingers so I can never write again. 
> 
> —Sincerely, Sierra

“I got the popcorn!”

The familiar sound of jingling bells and the smell of buttered popcorn clustered the room as a head of honey brown hair spun its way into the parlor. Mallory set a giant plastic bowl of popcorn on the antique coffee table, dramatically dropping into Coco’s lap, cuddling up there as if Coco were the best thing to ever happen to her in that moment. 

“I want to watch A Christmas Story,” Mallory mumbled into Coco’s thigh as her right hand traveled up and under Coco’s autumn colored sweater. “Madison’s probably gonna want something violent, though.”

Affectionately running her fingers through Mallory’s golden hair, Coco hummed in consideration. Mallory had always loved Christmas flicks, especially cult classics, or anything that wasn’t too cheesy, like the cliche of a man and woman falling in love at Christmastime and conveniently bumping into one another under the mistletoe. She had spent many a night dry heaving over those movies back home in the south of Mississippi, where there wasn’t much diversity to be had. 

“You hear that?” Coco questioned. Mallory frowned and shook her head. “Exactly. It’s quiet.” 

The coven had officially let out for the holidays, with Cordelia deciding to give them a full month’s worth of vacation, from a few days prior to Thanksgiving, to New Years. The joy of the season was fulfilled by the sound of the remaining witches giggling and writing dumb letters to “Santa” to put in the makeshift mailbox on Cordelia’s desk.

Mallory gratefully relinquished her energy to Coco as she laid against her, her head nestled in the crook of the older woman’s neck. Their moment was quickly cut short by Zoe carrying Madison in on her back, subsequently dropping her onto the loveseat with a loud grunt emitting for Madison’s mouth. 

“Have you decided on a movie?” Zoe asked as she rifled through Cordelia’s old-fashioned stack of DVDs and VHS tapes. The supreme refused to catch up with modern times and purchase a smart TV, because it would require a WiFi and a Netflix account, neither of which she was too familiar with, nor spend extra money on than she already was. 

“Mallory wants something Christmasy ,” said Coco. “It’s three weeks away, you know.” 

“Ugh, I’m so tired of those stupid movies. They’re all the same,” Madison sighed as she slid off the couch and ran her nimble fingers along Cordelia’s mountain of VHS tapes. She carefully played Jenga and pulled one out of the stack. “We haven’t watched this in a long time. And I don’t think Baby Supreme has seen it yet.” 

Mallory’s eyes clouded; she’d seen every Christmas movie to date. Madison wasn’t making any sense. 

“What movie? I’ve seen them all,” reminded the young woman. 

Muttering a quick, “ _Mommie Dearest_ ,” Madison popped the tape into the dusty VCR, and as the staticky screen powered up at the speed of honey, Mallory curled further into Coco’s side, her hand coming up to discreetly dip inside Coco’s bra. The older woman’s cheeks burned fire red but couldn’t be seen when Zoe snapped her fingers and plunged them in darkness. 

Queenie brought a tray of drinks; hot chocolate, soda, and a water for Zoe. She sat closer to Madison and Zoe, not wanting to be caught up in whatever Mallory was doing with Coco’s nipples under that sweater. 

As the initial trailers showed and the beginning credits rolled over the cut scenes of a wealthy woman preparing for a busy day out, Mallory became endeared by the soft, melancholy music that played over it. Her larger-than-life, sultry eyes were fixated on the rather small screen for a few minutes before she felt Coco kissing the side of her head. 

Mallory’s cheeks heated when she realized she was still playing with Coco’s breasts beneath the fleece throw Coco had pulled over them both. She wanted to pull her hand away, but Coco stilled it, her glassy eyes insisting it was alright if Mallory kept her ministrations there. So she did. 

About thirty minutes into the film and Zoe and Madison ignoring every second because they were eating each other’s faces, Mallory began nestling her head into Coco’s shoulder, her sweaty hands moving from her bra and gripping the soft fabric of her sweater. 

Coco could feel the tension in Mallory’s jaw. She frowned in concern for the girl, and tried pulling her away from herself to look at her sweet face and kiss it, wondering why she seemed so tight and tense. Perhaps she was tired, but she shouldn’t have been, since the day consisted of eating candy canes and wrapping gifts. 

It was when Coco felt the familiar sensation of Mallory’s nails digging into her flesh that she had a surge of concern wired through her body. Mallory had now reverted back to watching the screen, and Christina’s cries filled the room as Joan wielded a wire hanger at the crying child, bellowing about nice dresses and wire hangers. The heinous woman tore the room apart, tossing pretty dresses across the set as the child curled up in bed, her innocent face hidden in a silky pillow and those beautiful blond locks of hair. 

Mallory was stable and able to control the trembling of her hands until Joan smacked Christina’s back with the hanger, eliciting a scream from both the little girl and the very grown up but also childish Mallory. The sound caused the raunchy couple hidden in shadows to break away with haste, their hair and everything else a mess, and as Mallory stifled a sob in Coco’s chest, Queenie turned the lights on, filling the room with a dim, orangish glow. 

“What the fuck,” Madison hissed, her lips swollen and red. “What the fuck is that noise?”

“Mallory,” Zoe gasped as she moved to the other sofa. 

She knelt before the shaking woman, only to find Mallory had her hands over her ears as Coco tried gently shushing her, cooing at her and telling her it was alright, that no one was hurting her and no one would hurt her. 

Christina still screamed and hollered, and Joan spat foul things about the child, and Queenie turned the TV off altogether, joining the group of women surrounding the wailing young witch. Mallory was swaying back and forth like a rocking chair in the wind, except she wasn’t creaking, she was screaming. 

“What did you do to her?” Madison accused towards Coco, who blinked rapidly and looked up, somewhat offended. How could she ever hurt such an innocent, tepid creature such as Mallory? Never in her life had she considered something of the sort. 

“She—She just started crying,” Coco stuttered out, grabbing Mallory’s shoulders and rubbing up and down with flat palms. “She has nightmares sometimes.”

“Was she sleeping?” Zoe reasoned. Coco shook her head. “Then what happened?” 

“What is going on in here?!” 

The room, except for Mallory, turned their heads and found Cordelia in the doorway, dressed in a silky bathrobe and her Christmas slippers that had bells at the tips. Elf shoes, so to speak. The supreme was scowling at first, and her face softended up quite a bit upon seeing Mallory terrified and screaming with her hands glued to her ears. 

Without a word, the supreme gently pushed her girls aside as she knelt down to Mallory’s level. Her eyes focused on Mallory’s wet face and she reached up to grab Mallory’s hands. Gently, she lowered them with her own, finally prying them away from her face so she could take a good look at the damage this time. 

Mallory’s ears were blistering red and her cheeks were salty and drenched in fresh tears. Cordelia quietly tisked under her breath, sympathetically, though, and stuck her hands below Mallory’s arms, lifting her up.She gathered the shaking woman into her arms, flush against her body, and carried her, until Mallory’s arms were wound tightly around her neck and her legs around her slender waist. 

The supreme used her divine strength to whisk the girl away to her own bedroom, where she deposited her gently on the satin duvet and laid her against the fluffy pillows. Mallory wasn’t crying as hard now, but she was shaking and whining, even as Cordelia left gentle kisses on her forehead and along her hairline.

“Stay right here and control your breathing,” Cordelia murmured against Mallory’s soft hair. “Remember to breathe, like we talked about, remember? In and out. Ground yourself. Tell me what you can see.”

Mallory hesitated, her eyes finally opening again with the force of the sun, and she sniffled before she squeaked out, “Your room, your—your bed.”

“Very good. And what else? Tell me what you see,” Cordelia gently instructed. “What do you see?” 

“You,” replied Mallory. 

Confident Mallory understood where she was, Cordelia moved onto the next thing, the thing that caused immense panic for the small witch; touch. 

“Mallory, tell me something you can feel. Anything.” 

Cold hands grasped Cordelia’s forearms as Mallory held onto her supreme, taking in a burning breath. Her lungs swelled and deflated just as quick as they had filled. The final gasp that left the youngster’s body was anxious and depressed.

“Your skin,” Mallory finally replied. “The blanket. The pillow.” 

Breathing a sigh of relief, Cordelia nodded her encouragement and left a tiny kiss on Mallory’s nose. Mallory was able to utter one last thing she could feel—her hair tickling her chin, before Cordelia used her thumbs to wipe the tears from her cheeks. 

“Now, what can you hear, hmm?” Cordelia asked. 

“Your voice,” croaked the distressed witch as she swallowed a ball of new tears. “The. . .the fan.” Tilting her head, Mallory saw the spinning ceiling fan above the bed. 

“Great job. You’re doing good. Smell?” 

Mallory brought her arm to her nose and inhaled the scene of vanilla bean and a hint of sage. Her heart rate slowed significantly as she did so, the smell becoming intoxicating enough to soothe her. 

“Coco,” Mallory murmured. Her eyes shot open. “Coco! Where’s—“

“Shh, no,” Cordelia said, her hands coming up to cradle Mallory’s face. She would be damned if she allowed this to spiral out of control almost all the way through. “Coco is safe, she’s here. Now tell me something you can taste. Last one, Mallory, I promise.”

Mallory couldn’t answer, as she frequently did when she reached the taste. It was difficult to taste anything but her own tears. She grabbed Cordelia’s hands and looked up through a curtain of tears.

“Salt,” said Mallory. 

“Very good. You did so well, Mallory,” Cordelia praised. “Can you tell me what happened? Would you like to go downstairs and talk to the girls? I’m sure they’re worried about you.”

Giving her answer verbally would prove difficult, so Mallory, yet again, wrapped her arms around Cordelia’s neck and waist, effectively sitting in her lap. Cordelia reasoned with herself and counted to five before standing up, Mallory both literally and figuratively attached at her hip. 

She carried the younger witch down the stairs and to the parlor, where she discovered the witches speaking in hushed tones. Coco seemed distraught or anxious, or both. Regardless of which, when she saw Mallory hanging off Cordelia’s hip, she sprung to her feet as Cordelia let Mallory down. 

Falling into Coco felt better this time than the last. It felt right and easy and safe. Coco held Mallory to her chest, caressing back the hair that prevented her from seeing her face. 

“What happened?” Cordelia asked. “What happened that upset her?”

“We were watching Mommie Dearest, and when Joan started hitting the kid with a wire hanger, she just lost it,” Queenie explained. 

“She’s gonna hurt me,” moaned Mallory. “Don’t let her hurt me.”

“For fuck’s sake, it’s a movie,” said Madison. “She can’t hurt you.”

“Wait a minute, Madison,” Cordelia said as she touched Mallory’s cheek. “Mallory, who are you talking about?” 

Turning her head to look at Cordelia, Mallory sniffled. Coco held her head to her chest, stroking along the outline of Mallory’s jaw. 

“My mother,” said Mallory. “She always said she would hurt me again if I did anything wrong.”

“Sit down,” Cordelia gently instructed. It was unclear if she was directing it towards Mallory or the room in general, but no one wanted to chance it, so they sat together, Mallory squished in the middle like she was baby Jesus in the manager. As Cordelia knelt down, Mallory tucked her face into Coco’s side breast. “Mallory, look at me.”

Cordelia was tempting, but Mallory wasn’t better prepared for it this time. Finally, she had to pull her head up and open her eyes. 

“Talk to me. What do you mean by ‘again’? Did she hurt you before?” Cordelia asked. 

Everything that had been simmering to the top was finally spilling over and whistling. Mallory decided to take the kettle off the burner. 

“I’m adopted,” Mallory croaked. “My parents couldn’t have any kids. They tried for eight years before finally giving up and adopting me at birth from my young birth mom. Everything was fine when I was little. They loved me and gave me things. But I started showing powers when I was eight, and then, it was different. They tried exorcising me, beating the devil out of me, starving the devil out. They sent me to their pastor every week, and he would. . .do things. Whatever it took. Then came the mental abuse.”

As the witches quieted and blinked at her, Mallory felt herself slipping away into the throes of her mind, to that tiny corner where all her darkness had been living without a rent payment. 

_2003_

_Mallory knew she was in for it the moment she understood that she had been floating in bed. Her father had come to give her a goodnight kiss when he found young Mallory levitating above her Star Wars sheets. Mallory could still hear the initial shouts from her father as he called for her mother, who then ran in and dropped her mug of tea._

_Each parent grabbed a tiny arm and placed her in a closet full of old coats and things nobody used in twenty years. She sat in the cluttered, hot space with her knees to her chest. Her blush pink nightgown was soiled with tears and fresh urine. Sweat collected on her forehead._

_She fell asleep there, on a stiff coat, as her parents hastily called their pastor and demanded he make a house call. Some hours later, in the darkest of the night, Mallory was plucked from the closet and tossed onto the sofa, her bodily fluids sticking her to the leather._

_The pastor tried, in vain, to suck the demon from Mallory’s body, screaming heinous verses at her until she was sobbing. She was only crying because of the volume at which he shouted, not because anything was working. Aside from the bruises forming, Mallory felt otherwise fine._

_Dawn came faster than expected, the sun rising in the east. The pastor sat slouched in an armchair, his Bible clutched to his chest as he watched the little girl sleep soundly in her own urine. Her parents had been asked to leave the room some time ago, and were now sleeping their sorrows away while the pastor forfeited the demon and resorted to watching the eight-year-old child rest in her frilly nightgown, which was creeping up slightly above her bony knees, exposing her flesh._

_“Poor thing, all dirty and soiled,” the pastor whispered. He reached over and began tugging at the pink fabric, until it was above Mallory’s waist, revealing the underwear he had been sinfully thinking of for years, since her parents had toilet trained her._

_Mallory felt disturbed by the rush of air against her skin, and her swollen eyes opened, confused. She caught his large hand in her little one, with a grip like a python._

“ _Pastor Martin, what are you doing?” Mallory asked._

_“Your dress is filthy, child,” said Pastor Martin. “I’m just helping you.”_

_“No touching,” Mallory demanded. “Only Mommy can touch.”_

“ _Dear, your mommy doesn’t want to help you any longer. She can’t. This demon won’t leave you if I don’t help. Just relax,” instructed the pastor as he tilted back the girl and pulled at her clothes. “You will see. The demon will be all gone when I’m done here. Sleep now.”_

_Mallory slept, and when she awakened some hours later with her parents hovering her, Pastor was gone and she was naked and her mother smacked her across her little face._

_“You little whore!” her mother shouted. “You provoked Pastor Martin and he left here sick and anxious! How dare you ruin our reputation!”_

_The child didn’t understand why the insides of her legs ached so much, but as she sat up and looked down, she found bruises trailing along her inner thighs to the place to only be touched after marriage, which was now sore. To add to the sweat, urine, tears, and now blood, Mallory vomited. Her father slapped her._

It was a struggle to bring Mallory back to the present as she recalled the worst night of her life. Coco brought her back with a few gentle kisses, though her own fists were shaking. Mallory blinked, fresh tears rolling down her face.

“Oh, Mallory,” Cordelia murmured. “I’m so—“

“I’ll fucking kill him,” Madison snarled. 

“Me too,” Queenie added. “Lemme get a hammer.”

“He’s dead,” Mallory croaked. “He encouraged my parents to beat and starve me, hoping it would come out on its own. When I was nine, convinced my parents to let me have ‘confessionals’ with him after service every Sunday. They would leave me there for hours while they went to brunch, and he would do things and touch me.”

2006

_Mallory was eleven. Her body was scrawny and malnourished and weak, and in her corrupted mind, she hoped it would deter Pastor from touching her again. But this Sunday was no different than last and the one before that and all the others._

_Service had ended many minutes prior, and Mallory was left alone in the large church swallowed by stained glass and the disciples glaring at her. Her flats clacked against the floors as she found her way to Pastor’s office._ _He was impatiently waiting, as he should have been, as he had been for three entire years._

_She felt smaller than ever that day, with his eyes raking over her body. She knew the drill, to remove her pretty church dress, stockings,and matching headband, but she didn’t. Her entire body was bruised up from the hangers and cords, and her ribs were very much visible, and it always seemed more tempting for Pastor to touch her then._

“A body is a blank canvas. Boring and bland. Until you paint it a little,” _Pastor Martin had always said._

_“Well, go on, Mallory,” said the pastor as he tapped a pen on the desk. “You know what to do. Show me how vulnerable you are and tell me what you’ve done. Tell me all the bad and evil you’ve caused. Tell me how much you’ve pain you’ve caused your mother and father.”_

_“I can’t tell you, Pastor. But I can show you how evil I am.” Mallory rocked on her flats, her curls bouncing._

_“Hurry up, child. I see you’re filling out. One day, you’ll be able to bear children and nurse them like every woman should. Isn’t that what you want? You can’t do that if you are this evil,” said the pastor._

_Mallory’s eyes darkened. “No, I don’t want that, Pastor. I don’t want to bear children and I don’t want to nurse them. But I can show you how evil I am.”_

_Pastor Martin didn’t see the flames until he was engulfed in them, screaming and howling like Mallory had done internally for years under his disgusting hands, every time she was invited into his office to confess._

_As the flames creeped higher, Mallory smiled larger as the tears gathered and poured down her cheeks. Once Pastor stopped screaming and gurgling in agony, the flames died down and vanished into smoke as Mallory unclenched her fists. There was nothing left but ash and soot dusting the walls, and a burnt corpse in the chair where she would regularly sit in Pastor’s lap._

_Alarm bells were ringing, and Mallory’s fight or flight went into overdrive, and she was running as far as her feet could take her, behind the cemetery and through the winding playground behind the church. She dropped to her knees to catch her breath some minutes later, leaning against an oak tree._

_She spent hours beneath that tree, weeping into her frail hands as the sun went down and the winter breeze overcame her. The temperature dropped rapidly to fifty degrees, and she was shivering and whimpering, wishing herself away, to become one with the dirt._

_A drizzle of rain soaked her clothes. Her shoes were muddy and caked with blackness. A twig broke in the distance, and the sound of a dog barking startled Mallory. She hated dogs then; they were big and scary._

_“Mallory?!” She heard the unmistakable sound of her mother’s voice, and before she could pick herself up and run, her short and stout mother and burly father escaped from the thickens. “Oh, Mallory!”_

_Her father caught his child in his arms, lifting her thin and bony body and settling her on his_ _hip. Her stockings were ripped to shreds, her shoes were filthy, and her pretty yellow dress had been destroyed with ash and smoke._

_“What happened to you? What did you do?” her mother blubbered as she wiped the soil from her daughter’s face._

_Mallory stuttered at first, unsure of what to say, frankly blinded by the officer’s flashlight shining in her face. In the night shade, Mallory could make out the outline of the officer’s face; their longtime family friend, Officer Jordan. He was a tall, lanky man of forty-something, who frequented the diner her parents did every Sunday morning after leaving her to be fondled by their church’s most trusted man. He frowned at Mallory._

_“Thank you, Officer, but we have it from here,” Mallory’s father assured. Mallory’s mother continued to murmur and blubber on and on. “Caroline. . .”_

_Officer Jordan, albeit curious about the shaking child, rounded up his canine by the leash and adjusted his hat. “I reckon y’all should have her checked out. I can call for help and get her seen at a hospital. She’s_ _been through a lot.”_

_Mallory’s father seemed appalled by the suggestion, and shook his head, offering his free hand out to the officer, who took it stiffly and curtly. Mallory nestled her head in the crook of her father’s neck and cried as she was carried for what felt like a painful eternity, to the running car on the side of an empty two-way street. Her father dropped her into the backseat and wordlessly slid into his as Caroline buckled herself in._

“ _Poor Pastor Martin,” Caroline blew into her frozen hands. “He was such a kind man. Any idea how the fire started, Peter? I heard Mrs. Cartwright talking about an electrical problem?”_

_Peter shook his head but glanced back at Mallory, who was curled up in her seat, without heat or seatbelt. She didn’t make any eye contact, keeping her eyes fixated on two raindrops racing each other on the window._

_“Mallory, we’re gonna get you cleaned up and you’re going to bed right after,” Peter said roughly. “If you make so much as a peep, you’ll be beaten within an inch of your life. You hear?”_

_Mallory didn’t make a peep. She nodded and closed her eyes as the dirt stung them. She sniffled and found herself drifting off as the car began to move, but with every bump, she remained awake and tumbling around in her seat. Her parents began to converse in a very quiet tone._

“ _This is all your fault, Caroline,” said Peter. “I told you it was a bad idea to adopt a rapist’s child, and here we are, eleven years later with a witch child. She was cursed from the moment she was created. She has the blood of Satan in her veins.”_

_“I felt sorry for that young girl. She was fifteen and pregnant,” hissed Caroline. “We couldn’t have any of our own and she didn’t want a baby. What else was I to do? Let her go through with an abortion? Never! It’s not my fault Mallory is like this! I can’t just beat the witch out of her!”_

_A witch. Mallory hadn’t considered that possibility before. She had always thought witches were green and stirring potions in a cauldron. She didn’t think they were creating fire with their mind and levitating in bed. And she didn’t understand what they meant by a “rapist’s child.” Only one of those words rung a bell._

_“She must’ve done something,” Peter said. “She was there when Pastor Martin died. She did it. She killed him.”_

_Mallory swallowed thickly, hoping her parents would miss the smile on her face._

Coco held Mallory to her chest as tears leaked from her own eyes. The entire coven was leaned in close, Mallory in the middle, so they were protecting her and acting as a giant human shield. 

“My birth mother was fifteen when she had me,” Mallory began. “She was raped by her stepfather and got pregnant with me. My adoptive mom was working as a ‘counselor’ at one of those fake abortion clinics. She convinced my birth mom to keep the pregnancy and let her adopt me when I was born. My birth mom didn’t want to, but she felt forced, and she gave birth to me and immediately gave me to my parents. She never held or fed me.”

“Oh, Mallory,” cooed Cordelia as she stroked her cheek, for what felt like the millionth time that night. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“They hurt me,” Mallory whimpered. “I was so starved that I didn’t get my period until I was fifteen. They wouldn’t let me eat or cook for myself. 

We went to Pastor Martin’s funeral, too. Everyone said how good he was and that he would never hurt anybody. My parents made me go up and speak about him working with me for years. I wanted to tell them the truth, but I was so scared of my parents killing me. I may have killed him, but he got away with it. There’s no point in it if the world doesn’t know what a sick bastard he was.”

“We know,” Zoe added. “We know, and we love you, and we’ll never let them hurt you again.”

“They beat me almost to death a few times, but they wouldn’t kill me, because how would that look to the congregation?” Mallory bitterly spat. “Murderers? In their church? That couldn’t be.”

Mallory found herself exhausted and slumped against Coco. Coco held the young woman and stroked her hair, loving resting her chin on her head. The younger woman had no tears left, and she felt beyond spent and tired. 

“Alright, ladies,” Cordelia gently said. “Head up to bed. I’ll take it from here.”

The witches, save for Coco and Mallory, silently scurried off to bed. It was blatantly obvious Cordelia wanted to have the honors of scooping Mallory up and carrying her to bed, but judging by the way Coco held her so confidently, it seemed neither one desired parting. 

“Coco, if you want, you can take her up to bed,” Cordelia offered. “She needs you.”

She didn’t want to admit it, but Coco didn’t know what Mallory needed from her in that moment. She stood up and picked Mallory up, mimicking the way Cordelia had done, and walked up the stairs as Cordelia watched them go. 

Mallory slid off of Coco’s waist as the latter sat her on their shared bed. They shared a room with Queenie, but it was clear she had found another place to camp out for the night, as her bed was made and her slippers were gone. 

“Want your favorite lotion?” asked Coco as she grabbed the bottle of cocoa butter lotion (a play on words that made Mallory giggle). 

“Yes, please,” Mallory murmured. 

Coco’s eyes asked Mallory for full consent before she pulled Mallory’s sweatshirt over her head, revealing her bare chest. The younger witch did not shy away, having exposed herself to Coco several times in their relationship. But this felt different. It felt different for her to know, to see her so vulnerable while understanding what had happened. 

Next came the rest of Mallory’s clothes. She was almost fully nude, save for her underwear. Coco rubbed a quarter sized amount of lotion into Mallory’s skin, massaging bits and pieces where she was tense. 

Just above Mallory’s waistband was a small scar. Coco had always assumed it was from some happy childhood accident, like falling off her bike or scraping herself along the sidewalk while on roller skates. Mallory never spoke about it, unless she never knew it was there. Coco took extra care to it, rubbing it gently with her thumb. 

There were many things about Mallory that Coco never understood before this night. She had never understood why Mallory seemed so tiny compared to the rest of the coven—even to Madison, and Madison was a bird—or why she had to be front and center in pictures or else she wouldn’t be seen. She had never understood why Mallory avoided looking at any church or religious structure as they passed it on their way to the ice cream shop. 

Now she understood. She understood perfectly, and it broke her heart to massage every last bit of lotion into Mallory’s fragile skin fearing she may accidentally hurt her. It broke her heart to know somebody would think of hurting Mallory. 

“I’m gonna get your pajamas, and then I’m gonna get into mine, and we can watch A Christmas Story on my laptop. How does that sound?” Coco propositioned. 

Mallory nodded and rubbed her swollen eyes. Coco brought her a fleece pajama set that had a print of cardinals and holly throughout. She helped Mallory dress, and then pulled on her snowman set. 

Her laptop was fully charged and ready to go when they laid down. Mallory cuddled up against Coco as Coco opened up Prime Video and played A Christmas Story, which she had purchased just for Mallory’s entertainment. 

After the beginning titles were shown and the movie actually began, Mallory twisted her head and looked up at Coco in the shadowy darkness. 

“Coco? I love you,” said Mallory as she began to drift off. 

Coco’s eyes softened, and she kissed Mallory’s forehead, whispering gently, “I love you, too.” 

+++

The next morning, Mallory took out the trash as she had been scheduled to, and when she dumped the bag of trash on the curb, she found the copy of _Mommie Dearest_ burnt and destroyed in the trash can. There was a note stuck to the charr, and Mallory picked it up with her freezing fingers.

_Baby Supreme,_

_I hated this movie anyway._

_Love, Madison <3 _


End file.
